The Secret World of Arrietty: Beautiful

Studio Ghibli’s latest creation, The Secret World of Arrietty, understatedly examines our diminishing sense of empathy and connection to the environment. Like in many of its films, the protagonist finds himself in fantastical albeit more natural surroundings. The protagonist encounters another world that intrigues him yet may be incompatible with his own world. One could critique the creators for reusing this archetype, but the film unfolds so beautifully that I simply adored it.

The Clocks are “Borrowers,” little people who borrow food and supplies from human families in order to survive. They secretly inhabit a small, cozy burrow underneath Aunt Jessica (Grace Poletti)’s house, a place where his mother spent her childhood years. Shawn (David Henrie), a sickly boy from the city, temporarily moves to his aunt’s cabin in the woods to seek rest before his heart operation. As he enters the cabin, he discovers Arietty (Bridgit Mendler), the Clocks’ high-spirited daughter, sliding down a blade of grass. This seemingly harmless discovery has explosive ramifications for both sides, as Borrowers must absolutely conceal themselves from all humans.

The focalization of the story is split between Arietty and Shawn. Arietty sets out on her first “borrowing,” in which she assists her father, Pod (Will Arnett), gathering food and supplies from Jessica’s kitchen. Her mother (Amy Poehler) endlessly worries about getting hurt or worse, getting discovered by humans. They duck and navigate every nook and cranny of the house, dodging dangerous nails, vermin, and electric cords. Pod teaches Arietty to use climbing anchors and harnesses to cover vertical distances (you witness Rock Climbing 101). The sheer amount of detail and verisimilitude is astounding, and we truly see the human world as a labyrinth from the Clocks’ point-of-view. Who ever thought that getting a sugar cube could be so life-threatening? (Most of us even grumble about going grocery shopping.) Both Arietty and Pod come face to face with a bed-ridden Shawn, who calls out to Arietty and professes vague knowledge of “the little people.” The two worlds collapse at this moment, making us feel totally conflicted–we totally sympathize with Shawn, who only wants a friend, but we also are frightened for the Clocks. Being discovered inevitably means they must move, according to her father. Viewers want to insist, “it doesn’t have to be that way,” but the film demonstrates that such peaceful co-existence is not so easy in a human-centric world.

Under our suspension of disbelief, we soon realize that Shawn and his family members have heard of “little people” living under their house. His grandfather and mother had even built a beautiful Victorian doll house in hopes of welcoming them into their house. But the Borrowers are practical people and take only what they need instead of what they want. To stay on the safe side, they’ll even forgo a mini-kitchen catered to their size. If you are familiar with Hayao Miyazaki’s films, you may sense the dangers of such conveniently placed designs–they can entrap people instead of fulfilling needs. For a while there, I had this naive fantasy that because the Clocks could move into the doll house and live happily ever after with Shawn. However, this film indicates that cultural clashes and prejudices render such logistical and practical compromises to be irrelevant and impossible.

Shawn remains entrapped not only by the indoors but also by everyone’s expectation that he will eventually succumb to his illness. In parallel, while Arietty and her family must traverse the spheres of wilderness and domesticity, they are willing fight to the end for their safety and existence. Aunt Jessica and Hara (Carol Burnett), her housekeeper, repeatedly insist that Shawn must find rest and stay away from any form of excitement. They persuade him to stay cooped up in bed with a book and even draw the curtains in his room, denying him any view of the outside world. Even when Arietty first visits Shawn of her own accord, she stands on the window sill behind a huge leaf. His screen door keeps their two different world separate. As Shawn becomes aware of the Clocks’ existence, he begins to increasingly spend time outdoors, even basking in the sun on the flowery meadows. Through connection to Arietty and nature, he grows emotionally and physically stronger. And when Arietty reaches out to him for help, he must retrace her steps by climbing out of his window and navigating his house from the outside. Spirited Away illustrates the debilitating effects of city life on nature and the environment. The Secret World of Arriety suggests that even when we move to the countryside, so many of us internalize the idea that nature is dirty and dangerous and that we should stay in and watch TV instead. In this manner, the film posits that denying natural life’s healing powers exacerbate so many ailments and weaken human spirits.

Studio Ghibli also skillfully collapses the fantastical and real world in a way to inspire us to reevaluate societal recurrences. While the setting superficially consists of an ordinary house and its backyard, the sheer resemblance and conflict between the two families pushes us to acknowledge that our choices can inadvertently influence and displace other beings. For example, one of the Borrowers strongly resembles a Native American. Although I did not appreciate his stereotypical depiction, I thought perhaps the film is asking us to consider the recurring pattern of human and natural displacement. Something like this is happening in our backyards, yet many of us do not even realize or choose to ignore it. 

I was captivated by the film’s soundtrack and detailed sound effects. Cecile Corbel’s score enhances the film’s poignantly wistful and nostalgic ambience. Not to mention that the sound effects complement the visual artistry. For example, the persistent clanging of vermin and nails allows viewers to feel the suspense and concerned for Arietty and Pod’s safety. Even moments of everyday occurrences, such as wind blowing, signal something profound such as emotional maturity and connection between characters.

Older kids, teens, and adults will likely enjoy this understated beauty. It’s definitely one of those films that you can appreciate and learn more from each time you see it.